Porcelain Tub
by SilverShoes17
Summary: Why exactly did Spot want a porcelain bathtub? My first Spot story ever!


**My first Spot fic! YAY!**

**Big shout out to _GLimmer Conlon O'Leary_ for the quote! Hope you like it!**

**This is more of a story, rather than the mostly thought-based styles of my other recent quote fics. Enjoy and review!**

9 year old Patrick Conlon smiled as he and his brother ran down the street. Their father expected them at the family store at 3, and it was already 3:15.

"Come on Timmy!" Patrick yelled to the slower boy behind him. "Papa will have our hides if we don't get there soon!"

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" he replied, gasping for air as he sprinted.

The Conlon family owned a small business in Brooklyn. They mainly sold simple housewares, but their tiny business was struggling to stay afloat. Their main customers never bought the expensive items the Conlons needed them to buy to make a good profit. The family could barely manage to put enough food on the table in the kitchen of the tiny apartment above the shop. But their father worked as hard as he could. He was actually a decent salesman, any one of the several customers a week that they had would vouch for that. They had their loyal customers, but those customers mainly bought smaller items, such as tools to repair pipes or to perform simple fix-its around the house.

A block and a half later the two boys came to a halt. They saw two large men carrying a big box out of the store and loading it onto a cart attached to the back of a carriage. There was already a slightly smaller box on the cart. They walked around to see a rather fancily dressed young woman sitting in the carriage. The two men very carefully placed the box on the cart next to the other one with a grunt, happy to not have to struggle with the weight anymore. They tipped their hats to the lady, and walked back into the store. The young boys then saw their father walk outside, a man in a suit talking with him.

"I'd like to thank you again for your purchase, Mr. Ericcson," their father said, shaking the man's hand. "It's one of the best models in the state of New York."

"I shall tell others of your store, Mr. Conlon," the man replied heartily. "Your service was impeccable."

"I appreciate it, sir," he said. "You and the Mrs. have a nice day." The man got into the carriage, motioned for the driver to start the horses, and were on their way.

The two Conlon boys ran over to their father.

"What'd you sell Papa?" Timmy asked excitedly.

"Yeah, Papa, what?" Patrick added.

"Oh," their father said, making it seem as if it weren't an item of much value. The man knelt down to be on his sons' eye level. "Just the new porcelain bathtub we got last week!" The boys' faces lit up. That was the most expensive thing in the store! His boys both wrapped him in a hug at his great accomplishment.

"That's great Papa!" the two brothers chorused.

"Even sold a chip heater to go with it," he added. The heater was almost the same price as the tub.

"Wow!" Patrick squealed. The store hadn't ever sold anything this big before. He knew his mother was wary when his Papa put in the order for the tub. She went on ranting that if they couldn't sell it, they'd be out on the streets. But boy, was she wrong!

"Now you listen to me, boys," his father said when the boys let go of him. He put a hand on each of their shoulders, a wide grin still on the man's face. "Someday, _we'll_ be able to afford a porcelain tub just like the one that just rode away on that carriage."

"And the heater?" Patrick questioned.

"Why, what would a porcelain tub be without boiling water?" their father replied.

"It'd be mighty cold, that's what it would be," Timmy answered, both of the young boys giggling.

"That's right," their father laughed along with them. He ruffled their hair as he stood up. "Someday, boys, someday."

* * *

But unfortunately for the Conlons, someday would never come. Just one week after Mr. Conlon made the sale, a fire caught to the store. Patrick was the only one who managed to escape; he smelled the smoke in his sleep and immediately dashed for the fire escape. His mother, father, brother and all of the items in the store below the apartment perished in the fire. Patrick stood outside, watching the blaze before him light up the night sky as the firemen attempted in vain to extinguish it.

A single tear fell from the boy's eye, though it may have been from the smoke. He quickly turned around and ran. He didn't know where he was running to, he just kept running. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. His tears continued to stream down his cheeks, now from the tragic scene that had just been in front of him. He was alone now His family was dead. The store was gone. His childhood, in a sense, was gone. His whole world was flipped by the flames.

* * *

Patrick, or Spot now, as he was referred to as, spent the next 7 years of his life haunted by that memory. The memory of the night his life fell apart. The night his family died, and his innocent spirit died along with them.

He also never forgot the last sale his father made. In his mind, a porcelain tub was everything his life could have been, if the fire hadn't consumed his once carefree world. He had seen them in plenty of shop windows. They symbolized something to him, the promise his father made all those years ago. The promise of a better life.

_Someday_, Spot swore to himself, over half a decade after that fateful night, _I'll own a porcelain tub all to me'self. _

_And a heater too. That water's gotta be boiling._

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**I know I don't have the actual quote *in* it, but it's obviously implied so yeah.  
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**So what do you think? Good? Bad? Lame? **

**Tell me in a review!**

**:)**

**For those that are asking 'WTF is a chip heater?' here's a link (it's on wikipedia, the url got messed up when I saved the document)-**

**.org/wiki/Chip_heater.**


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